A free man
by Demon Faith
Summary: He craves the sea' Eric-in-peril. Speed-Eric
1. A free man

PAIRING: Speed/Eric

Eric POV, angst warning.

* * *

He craves the sea. He would sell his soul for open waves, cutting through the clear water without a thought, ignoring all Speed's admonitions about the bacteria and pollution and women after his ass.

A laugh – a shaky whisper, but it's there. He presses futilely against the wood, his palm scraping against the rough planks. The soft skin bleeds, tiny splinters marring the smooth flesh, as he pounds the side with all his strength.

He leans too far and the box tumbles, slamming his shoulder into the ground, knocking away his breath as the bone cracks. The pain is distracting; it almost drowns out the raucous laughter from all around.

Eric never realised he was claustrophobic – has huddled deep in the cabins of speedboats, buried often under the covers away from sunlight; it's a very different thing when space is but one move away.

Now, he's suffocating in a box of wood, all his efforts leading to blood and bruising. He yearns for the freedom he never appreciated, the knowledge of his flaky Destiny that seemed on course until yesterday. He wants to walk in the park, dive into a lake, kiss Speed on their balcony and never let go. He's trapped.

He can't stretch out, but it's not just the crushing sides of wood. He feels the weight of time on him, knowing that men in boxes don't have long lifelines. He knows the deep groove is fading from his hands, scratched out by the bloody wood chips piercing his skin.

Eric wishes he could see Speed one more time. They fought over his family again, Speed wanting more than 'friend' status in their eyes and Eric unable to give it, not yet. Here, in this shrinking Hell, he would give the world to see his best friend's eyes, touch his lips to his, tell him 'love' could not describe the exploding ache in his chest every time he thought of him.

Weakness is stealing through him, lack of food, water and sleep dragging him into a half-waking state. The chips of light are greying out, his eyes unable to focus anymore. Yet he's stubborn and he continues to squint at his hands, wondering if the line's gone yet. He's worried that he'll miss it.

Rain on a tin roof – the thunderous noise deafens him, and he curls up, desperate not to touch the sides of the suddenly-fragile box. It dies away with loud shouts, and he hears voices that he recognises – he hears Speed.

"ERIC! WHERE ARE YOU?"

He musters all his strength to shout, "SPEED! HERE!" before coughing into the floor of the box. There's a desperate scrabbling to his left and he faces that wall, waiting, hoping.

A snap, and light streams in, Miami sun hurting his eyes. Frantic hands draw him out, every muscle screaming as those warm hands turn him over and settle on his face.

"Eric? Eric, stay with me."

He opens his eyes to the voice, and a smile graces his lips. Speed looks sick, but is holding onto him as if to never let him go. It's good kind of cage.


	2. The List

'A free man' was a stand alone piece for an LJ challenge, but because of kind words from melly and Rahel, I decided to add a little Speed addendum.

* * *

He dislikes hospitals, remembers them all too well from not so long ago. A different friend, a different kind of Hell.   
  
Yet, in a strange, twisted way, he can understand the snowmobile accident that crushed his friend, knows Fate is a cruel bastard that likes to play with fire and ice. The random whim of Sod he has grown to accept - this, this he can't.  
  
Someone snatched away Eric for their own amusement, for a sick game of vengeance that was crystal-cut in their minds. A human being deliberately locked his best friend in a box and was waiting for him to starve to death. Speed shudders, grasping the polystyrene cup of cold coffee, blinking against the dull ache in his chest.  
  
Speed thought he knew all the evil in the world, has seen every crime he could imagine and let it brush past him, struggling for composure he knew he had and nearing failure every time. Why should this one be any different?  
  
He looks up, and Eric's face blurs before his eyes, but he forces himself to look. He doesn't need to though, because he remembers all too well - sunken eyes staring at him wildly, full curved lips starting to blue, hands frozen between his as the paramedics rushed him away.   
  
Eric is the difference; he has brought Speed back to Earth, and he can't even attempt composure when faced with this. Eric did his job: he locked away a drug lord, and he was so happy, so drunk on his success when he came home to Speed that evening. His kisses were eager, his hands insistent, and Speed could never resist Eric, not even if he tried.  
  
This was his reward. Minions and flunkies at a loss, thought they'd lock away the CSI like he did their boss. Speed couldn't even stand near the ones who lived, the revulsion making him physically sick. He's glad H is interviewing them, more glad that Calleigh's on vacation. She doesn't need this - hell, he doesn't need this.  
  
Yet how he wishes it was him.  
  
He can't bear the thought that Eric suffered, trapped in a box barely four foot square, no food or water for over two days; still hovering in a state of exhaustion with IV lines marring his dark skin. Then, the scratches, the ragged red gashes across both hands, as he tried to claw his way out and failed.  
  
Speed isn't sure he would cope, but he would have done anything to stop Eric's pain. The thought scares him in a way, but he is resolute, reminds himself to tell Eric that when he wakes. His lover will probably laugh, and it will do them both good to know that smile lives on, can still shine.  
  
Until then, Speed must wait with his thoughts, watching life-restoring liquid trickle down into Eric's arms, wishing he could help him, ease him, comfort him. Wishing they didn't fight the hour before over something so trivial, and Speed adds that to his 'Tell Eric' list - none of it matters if he has Eric. That's important.  
  
Speed starts as Eric stirs, and he shuffles closer to the bed, closing his eyes in thanks as he adds one last note to his list - I love you. 


End file.
